


Glimpses from a Data Crystal, frozen in Time

by allaire mikháil (allaire)



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, M/M, POV Outsider, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2001-05-10
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allaire/pseuds/allaire%20mikh%C3%A1il
Summary: A furlough on Earth. Before.Before.





	1. Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #1 - Now and then, regulations are actually _good_ things.

  
"I've approved your leave form." 

"Huh?" Michael Garibaldi frowned and looked up from the report he'd been writing on his data pad, sitting behind his desk in the Security office. "Jeff -- what the heck are you talking about? I didn't request any leave. Can't. Not with the chaos these last days." 

"Actually, you've accumulated more leave days than the EarthForce manual allows." Commander Sinclair's face was impassive, his voice calm and without inflection. 

"Jeff, what is this all about? Sure, hell, I know; I haven't taken even a third of my leave days from _last_ year, not even mentioning this year. But I'm not working for EarthGov, so don't start quoting EarthForce rules at me!" Slowly, Garibaldi was becoming angry. "I'm the Chief of Security, remember?" 

Sinclair looked a little bit taken aback and had just opened his mouth to reply when the door to the security office glid open with a hiss and a furious Susan Ivanova stormed in. "This is a joke, Commander, isn't it?!" She shook a data pad under his nose and looked totally pissed off. 

Sinclair cleared his throat and answered calmly: "No, it's not a joke, Lieutenant Commander. Assuming you're speaking of the new duty roster." 

Susan opened and closed her mouth once, then spluttered: "But..." 

Garibaldi looked from one officer to the other and felt like a spectator at a tennis match, or someone watching the conflict between the proverbial rock and the hard place. 

"May I remind you that _you_ brought this topic to my attention, Susan." Sinclair's voice softened. "The Narn and the Centauri won't overcome their differences next month, nor will the criminals in Down Below suddenly vanish. We can't put off taking our leave simply because we feel we are too indispensable at the moment. That won't change. And if that means we'll be a little short-staffed at C&C, that's something that can't be helped. Lieutenant Corwin is more capable than you're giving him credit for. Don't worry." He gave her a half-smile. 

Susan relented a little, but still was far from pleased. "I hope you didn't apply this to the security detail." 

Garibaldi looked at Sinclair, suddenly alarmed. "No. I leave it to Mike to make sure that his staff tries to use their excess leave days without rendering Security helpless to deal with a possible crisis. Anyway, Michael will be off for the next three weeks." Ivanova looked at Garibaldi who just shrugged, but didn't comment. He looked a bit pole-axed, though. "And so will I," Sinclair gave the Russian the shadow of a smile, real amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, "entrusting Babylon 5 into your capable hands. Even the Commander can't break the rules." And with a straight face: "Only bend them a little." 

Ivanova and Garibaldi both gave him a questioning look. 

"I still have several days left from _two_ years ago." 

*** 

Ivanova left Garibaldi's office a moment later, still chuckling. 

Sinclair and Garibaldi, left behind, faced each other across the room. 

Sinclair broke the silence first: "I don't intend to boss you around, Michael. Or preach you the rules. Not with me being even worse," he grinned openly now, "But I thought you'd like us to spend our leave together. On Earth." His eyes were dark now, intense. He leaned forward, into Garibaldi's space. "Key West, North America. And I'll finally be able to take you dancing, just like I promised. We might not be able to get out of the closet here, but there, no one will know us. There'll only be us, Michael." 

"For three whole weeks," Garibaldi breathed, and a smile broke through on his face. He longed to touch Jeff, but couldn't, due to the damn glass doors. But hell, he'd be able to indulge in that next week, to his heart's content, openly, for all the world to see... 

He shivered and whispered: "Oh, _that_ leave form, Commander. Thank you."


	2. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #2 - Another view on our favorite couple.

  
He leaned closer to his wife and smiled at her. "Tell me what's fascinating you so much?" She didn't turn her head, still staring intently at the dance floor. 

"That beautiful couple." Absently. 

"Which one?" He smirked and made a sweeping notion at the packed space under the fluorescent lights, moving like one entity to the hammering beat. The club was crowded tonight, the usually slow, classic rhythm exchanged for a pulsing, modern style of music that he personally found hard to get used to. But this was the first vacation in six years they'd managed to go on together, and he was determined to enjoy each and every single minute until his wife had to leave again. His ship would wait for him; hers wouldn't. But until then, they still had three days and nights in Key West. 

"Tell me again why we absolutely _had_ to come here instead of going to Hawaii, or Mauii, or..." 

"Because those islands are horribly commercialized today, no native culture whatever, and I refuse to wear several layers of sun-protection cream and swallow antihistamine pills each day. You _know_ that. _And_ I wanted to relax. And spend a lot of time with you." Her light, tender smile softened her words, and he felt the familiar tightening in his chest that smile could still provoke. 

He raised his eyebrows and teased her: "Of course we could have also gone to Deneva III and visited the archaelogical dig..." 

"As if I didn't see enough digs on the job -- and meet enough xeno-archaelogists to last for a century! But then, we could have also attended the annual VotEMW meeting in San Francisco..." 

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, "Oh dear god, not a thousand horses could drag me there. Veterans from the Earth-Minbari war, ranting and raving about the Battle of the Line, would-be-politicians like that Clark guy from Chicago blaming the boneheads for every economical crisis they can think of..." 

"Sometimes I don't know where I am with you," she smiled a little bit sadly, "on one hand you were one of the strongest supporters of a peaceful conclusion to this horrible slaughter during the War, on the other hand you still hate them, but strangely not enough to support racial opportunists like Morgan Clark. You are a man of contradictions, my dear." 

"And you are a true cosmopolitan, Anna, I know. If all people and all races were as naturally curious and forgiving as you, EarthGov wouldn't need destroyers -- or even EarthForce, at all. And I'd be out of work and could follow you around, hopping from planet to planet, raising our ten love children and cooking spoo for you when you came home at night." 

"Oh, _you_!" She nudged him playfully with her elbow."Hey, look, over there! These are the two I meant before." 

The dancing crowd down on the chrome platform had thinned a little, due to a slow instrumental song with just the suggestion of a beat. The holographic projectors didn't show the mad swirling planets any longer that had made him nauseous before, instead they projected slowly dancing pinpoints of light, like a starfield in space. 

The couple stood out in the younger, "in" Earthborn crowd. No hairstyle in the latest fashion, no body paintings, no glued-on jewels accentuating their cheekbones. Just two men in perhaps their early thirties with short, almost military haircuts, clean shaven and relaxed, dancing close together. Their clothes were tight and accentuated their trim, fit bodies without being indecent or flashy. Their graceful movements were a joy to behold, and he noticed many female eyes following them interestedly. 

"Too bad. Seems they're both already taken." He grinned at his wife and pantomimed wiping drool from his chin. She glared at him first, then her lips twitched, and she grinned back. "I still think they're interesting." 

"And might I ask why, apart from the obvious, that is?" 

"You, Mr. EarthForce Commander, should notice it immediately. They're military. And spacers. And EarthForce as well, I bet." 

He looked back at the dancing couple. His wife was right. 

The taller one had dark, almost black hair and a bearing that spoke of both feral grace and astonishing body control. An officer. His tight dark chinos and loose white shirt accentuated his lean, muscled build. The man's serene, intent face seemed oddly familiar to him, and he was racking his brain over that fact while he concentrated on his companion. The other man was perhaps two inches shorter and bulkier. He had a receding hairline, light brown hair in a buzz cut and wore grey shimmering pants that contrasted with his black sleeveless west and his bare, muscled arms. He was smiling and talking animatedly, unconsciously following his partner's lead. He was moving enthusiastically, but less gracefully and had an air of constant watchfulness about him that practically screamed 'security detail'. They were evidently at ease with each other, but not totally at ease here in the club, and their touches had a hint of underlying wonder that made him think they'd went out dancing together for the first time. 

It was hard to be certain in the fluorescent lights and the flashing holo emitter, but their skin tone suggested a paleness that spoke of a long time spent under a stellar vessel's artificial lights. 

"Yeah, spacers. And I _know_ the taller guy -- must have seen him a couple of times at EarthDome Central... I just don't remember the name..." He looked at his wife for help. 

"Sorry, can't help you. You know that for me, one EarthForce officer looks like the next -- apart from one exception, of course." She leaned closer, her eyes twinkling, and kissed him deeply. He consciously relaxed his hands and didn't press her as close to him as he wished. She would leave him again in three days, and a small part of his brain screamed at him to keep her close, to keep her here, to stop her from boarding her ship, for God knew what might happen out there in space, on the Rim. He squashed ruthlessly the little voice screaming 'danger'. He was not a caveman. He would respect her career and her lifelong dream -- after all, he had wanted an equal partner, not a housewife or a subservient baby machine. She would come back. 

She always did. 

*** 

When they left the club about two hours later that night, they virtually stumbled across the same couple in the entrance hallway. This was the upscale part of the Key West club mile; the bars, clubs and amusement centers didn't have back rooms or private booths, and the rooms rented weren't charged by the hour. So any kind of touching that included more than simple kissing either happened somewhere else -- or in the hallway where the club managers made sure it didn't last too long or got too involved. 

The two men were kissing deeply, passionately, with a hint of desperation that was achingly familiar. He took Anna's arm and led her around them, wordlessly asking her to be quiet. So he heard the words not meant for him: "Jeff, how can we live without this ever again? Not only to see you, but to be able to touch..." The underlying pain touched him deeply despite his discomfort he'd not even admitted to his wife, that he thought it wrong for two men to love each other, and he looked away quickly. 

So not only lovers and members of EarthForce, but evidently also officers serving one under the other in the chain of command... and in a flash of memory, he was able to recognize the face of the tall, dark-haired man. 

"Now I know who he is, Anna," he whispered to her as they stepped out of the building. 

"Who?" 

"The taller one. Jeffrey Sinclair, hero of the Battle of the Line, now commander of Babylon 5." 

"That was him?" 

"Yes. We at EarthDome always thought he didn't have any feelings. Guess we were wrong." John Sheridan gave his wife a bittersweet smile and kissed her, allowing a hint of his own despair to shine through. 

Three days and the _Castor_ would leave for the Rim, to a dig on Cervarubias X. Unbeknownst to them both, Anna would be offered a transfer to the _Icarus_ there. By then, he would long be aboard his ship, the _Agamemnon_ , not knowing that he wouldn't see Anna again for a long time...

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted, oh God, **18 years ago**. _Babylon 5_ was literally the first fandom I've ever written fanfic for. Today I've been overwhelmed by a surge of nostalgia and suddenly remembered that I hadn't posted this anywhere but on my site, way back when.
> 
> Beta thanks go to Gail, a shout-out to Nat, and general thanks for inspiration to Emily Brunson.
> 
> ...Anyway, I've started rewatching Season 1. We'll see whether that goes anywhere, because let me tell you, _I don't have the_ time _for this, urgh._
> 
> There is only one page (!) of Jeff/Michael stories on AO3. Why, oh why?!


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